


New Allies

by bluegrass



Series: Completed Works [7]
Category: Bleach, Naruto
Genre: Attempt at Humor, But they're retired, Crack Treated Semi-Seriously, Family Fluff, He's grown up now though so it's okay, I Don't Even Know, Kisuke the troubled adopted child, Kurama is Naruto's Zanpakutou, M/M, Multi, Obliviously bisexual Ichigo, One Shot, Parents Team 7, Shinigami!Team 7, Zanpakutou Rebellion Arc, that's the plot basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25863094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluegrass/pseuds/bluegrass
Summary: The plan was to talk Kurama out of his violent haze.Fuckingtalk.Ichigo hated Naruto’s plan.(In which it's the Zanpakuto Rebellion arc and Kurama is Naruto's Zanpakuto.)
Relationships: Dai-nana-han | Team 7 & Kurosaki Ichigo, Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke
Series: Completed Works [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1184885
Comments: 16
Kudos: 215





	New Allies

**Author's Note:**

> BleachWiki is my best friend but accurate timelines are not.

**1.**

“I’m afraid I heard you wrongly. He said – they’re going to _what?_ ”

From where he’d been dozing off, Ichigo startled awake at the sound of Urahara’s raised voice, spoken with enough hysterics that had Ichigo’s animal brain kick up into gear because Urahara Kisuke, resident manipulator and genius, did not _do_ hysterical.

Blinking rapidly against the bright ceiling lights of the shop, Ichigo sat up from where he was slumped against the peeling wallpaper. His legs felt numb but was quickly feeling with pins and needles when he tried to move them.

His mouth tasted like something had died in it.

Ichigo squinted at Kisuke’s stupid striped green hat, barely noticed the Hell Butterfly that faded away, and remembered that actually, yes, something did indeed die in his mouth. His pride had, the moment he was swept off his feet in three minutes flat during training earlier this afternoon.

More importantly though, Kisuke’s up and oncoming mental breakdown because although Ichigo couldn’t read it from his expression exactly, the tiny crack in Kisuke’s voice earlier couldn’t possibly spell anything good.

Determining that his numbed nerves weren’t going to let up anytime soon, Ichigo promptly discarded any notion of dignity and crawled towards the low table in the middle of the room, sweeping up a cup of tea and throwing its contents back like a man lost in the desert.

He side-eyed Kisuke after rolling on his back, who’d gotten up from his spot cross-legged and started pacing back and forth, fingers twitching at his sides. Where the older man _stalked_ – there wasn’t a better word, okay? – right, Ichigo’s eyes followed; where he went left, Ichigo traced that movement too. It went on for a while, right to left, then left to right, and by the time Ichigo was on his third cup, he was almost going dizzy with restless anticipation.

What was it? “What has your panties in a twist?” Ichigo asked curiously.

Kisuke spun around quicker than those childhood spinning tops toys. His expression was open, moonstone grey eyes wide, like he honestly hadn’t realised his student – in which he’d _just_ beaten up while reprimanding: “Your situation awareness leaves much to be desired.” – had woken up the second Ichigo did and okay, something was _really_ wrong. Aizen levels wrong, Ichigo found out about my less than ethical plans for time travel levels of wrong.

“Talk to me, Kisuke.” Ichigo tried to project a sense of calm throughout the room, framing his voice into the tempered steel Ossan usually used.

His effort went acknowledged when Kisuke seemed to calm down, but maybe not the way Ichigo initially pictured because Kisuke’s gaze flickered from shocked to amused in a heartbeat, like he knew what Ichigo was trying to do and found it supremely funny.

Ichigo lowered his gaze to the Kisuke’s collarbones and inhaled deeply. Punching the guy wasn’t an option right now.

It was better than ten minutes ago, anyway. Ichigo was willing to acquiesce this opportunity to be made fun of only because of today’s unique circumstance. That, and he was also surprised Kisuke hadn’t bothered to correct Ichigo’s casual call of his first name.

Kisuke sat back down and flicked open his fan to hide a which was no doubt curved sarcastically. Ichigo pictured a wry smile considering what he heard next. “I need to speak to you, Ichigo-kun.”

Curiosity and dread pooled in his stomach, sinking like an anchor in deep seas. Never across hundreds of years of history did those words come with any good implications.

“Is it about training? Shiro and Shinji have me by my dick, I swear. Finals are coming up. I _have_ a life outside sword measuring contests.”

Kisuke barked out a laugh, shoulders relaxing wherein Ichigo hadn’t noticed were tense in the first place. “Your training is the last thing I’m worried about,” Kisuke snorted with good humour. “It’s the last thing actually. In fact, it would appear that I’ve just been informed of a worrisome situation with Yamamoto-dono.”

“The old man?” Ichigo said, sitting up, and Kisuke looked caught between rebellious delight and habitual distress at the rude address. Well, not to say that either of them were good at respecting people that hadn’t earned it. He waited patiently until Kisuke’s weird twitch receded. “Indeed,” Kisuke nodded, but he was soon shaking his head with the air of someone who’d just had their dog killed.

Ichigo frowned. “Tell me.”

**2.**

“A state of emergency at Seireitei – _again?_ So they’re sending Shinigami over to ask us to help?”

Kisuke hummed in answer, which in cryptic speak could mean either _yes_ or _no_ or _this level of information is locked to you until you’ve defeated Kenpachi in a duel._ Several seconds passed, and Ichigo hid his surprise when his question was actually answered. “By mere technicality,” Kisuke shrugged, “they’re retired.”

“Okay?” Ichigo had lost his capability for surprise at this point; Seireitei was in trouble every other damn week. In his opinion, the more pressing matter stood in front of him with patchy stubble and deliberate nonchalance. “So just another day in the business,” Ichigo said slowly, thoughts stringing together theories, “but you’re stressed – why?”

“Nonsense, Ichigo-kun. I’m not _stressed._ ” The word was spat like it had been the sourest lemon to ever lemon, but Kisuke composed himself quickly and continued, “I’m merely concerned. I’ve known them for a better part of my life, and they can be… unpredictable.”

“You’re just upset your chess game won’t be going the way you want it to.” Ichigo wrinkled his nose, feeling wronged somehow. Kisuke could be so dramatic sometimes and it was equal parts endearing and annoying. Nevertheless, Ichigo was directed a betrayed look that he wisely ignored before thanking Tessai who’d mysteriously appeared bearing a plate of still warm dango.

“So who’re these people?” he asked while chewing: a skill he was surprisingly talented at, making little noise when he spoke and ate simultaneously. Ishida hated it immensely.

Kisuke said the names like they pained him. “Uzumaki Naruto,” he started, restlessness starting to worsen by the way his speech started rushing. “Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Sasuke.”

Ichigo dropped his dango stick in surprise, memory jogging. “Uchiha?” he blurted, recognising the infamous clan. “You’re familiar with them?” Kisuke arched a sharp, blond brow.

“Rukia’s told me some about the four noble clans. The Uchiha used to be one of them, weren’t they? Until everyone was wiped out. We didn’t get much past that.” Because y’know, _Hollows._

“By the heir, no less,” Kisuke sighed mournfully, oddly sincere. “And only the spare was spared. It was the biggest scandal of the millennia. Not even Koga’s traitorous campaign had caused as much outrage as the massacre. Muramasa was an intriguing subject to say the least.”

Ichigo frowned. “I don’t see how it’s related to what you’re freaking out about.”

“For heaven’s sake, Ichigo-kun, I don’t–”

“Freak out, yeah, whatever. Get to the point.”

“Aizen was… careful in their presence. And as I was of poor standing, it was only because of their influence that I was allowed a sentence of painless banishment to the human realm,” was all Kisuke had to say before turning his back on Ichigo, pretending he knew jack shit in tea preparation when the man had once burned water without trying.

Clearly, there were things going unsaid. It caused Ichigo’s curiosity to overtake the part of his brain that should sombre him at the severity of the situation, of having three unknowns that even Sosuke ‘god-complex’ _Aizen_ had steered clear of and yet weren’t present to counter the injustice of, well, _everything_ that had transpired over the last year.

He decided to poke Kisuke for more information. It was nigh impossible to tell if the surge of delight at witnessing Kisuke’s discomfort stemmed more from Shiro or himself. Ichigo rolled his shoulders and grinned, “So?”

“… so?”

“So you obviously don’t want them involved. Did they ruin your plans for world domination or something? Pulled on Yoruichi-san’s tail? Damaged your shitty hat? _What_ now?”

Kisuke sputtered, speechless. Then honest to god _flushed_ in embarrassment and Ichigo swore his soul had ejected from his body for a hot second. The impossibly uncharacteristic reaction was all he needed, and if that wasn’t already enough cause for concern, then the first-hand witness of vulnerable hesitation Kisuke _never_ responded with. He always had a retort, a response, a sarcastic barb hidden somewhere inside his stupidly clever eloquence. Always.

Just not when these three names were involved, apparently.

The discovery was a pretty big revelation. There was hope for humanity yet: Kisuke wasn’t a stone cold bastard after all. Not that it was obvious before, but he had his bastard moments. Ichigo was about to crow out a well-deserved declaration of karma when the door swiped open with a shoulder raising _bang!_

Their heads whipped towards the sound and Kisuke took an uncharacteristic stumbling half-step back. “They’re here,” he whispered with abject mortification, so softly it was probably meant to go unheard.

**3.**

The first person to enter was a man comparable to the blazing heat of noon with his hair like spun gold, skin bronze under the white light. His eyes were clear gemstones that rivalled the skies and lakes combined, contrasting jarringly to the obscene orange kimono jacket he wore that Ichigo couldn’t help but stare.

The scars like whiskers on his face weren’t helping Ichigo's manners either.

“Kisuke-chan!” the stranger cheered with open arms, and for one unexplainable moment, Ichigo imagined throwing himself into the stranger’s strong hold. Because feeling the stranger’s Reiatsu was like coming in contact with the raw _joy_ of being alive, like seeing mother work her magic in the kitchen for the first time – Ichigo could feel the craving tearing him apart from the bottom of his goddamned _soul,_ and just as wondrously, put him back together again

Last time Ichigo checked (courtesy of the opponents he’d defeated), Reiatsu was _not_ supposed to trigger such reactions from anyone.

He wasn’t the only one near vibrating out of his skin, thankfully. Kisuke immediately straightened from his lazy slouch and shuffled over into the hug, a subtle shiver pressing down his body as his face was tucked into the stranger’s neck. “I wasn’t expecting you so quick,” muffled Kisuke.

“Were you surprised?” Sunshine Personified grinned, and it was fucking ridiculous how effortlessly the guy’s voice alone commanded respect and attention and love as easily as breathing. He was like the blazing sun that pulled planets into its orbit as naturally as Earth took 365 days to circle the ball of light.

He was followed by another man with dark hair and equally dark eyes – arguably blacker than Aizen’s soul – that contrasted starkly against his moonlight pale skin. “The usuratonkachi nearly woke up the whole neighbourhood planning it,” he said exasperatedly to his companion, but it wasn’t long before his intense gaze landed briefly on Ichigo, softening when it flickered over to the encased Kisuke.

“Kisuke,” the murmur was soft and low, laced with something Ichigo couldn’t quite break down on the dot. Kisuke’s head turned, and Tall, Dark, and Broody reached out a gloved hand to… poke a forefinger to Kisuke’s forehead.

Kisuke’s name had sounded so terribly _fond_ despite the almost apathetic intonation, the delivery of the forehead tap weirdly intimate.

“Sweetheart.” The last to enter had bubble-gum pink hair reminiscent of the cherry blossom flowers that would fall during spring – it was the first thing Ichigo noticed about the woman. The second thing he noticed were her eyes the shade of shimmering forests worthy of centuries worth of poetry.

The third, how her everything was soft and sharp and strong all at once. For good reason, Ichigo suspected, the diamond on her forehead reminded him of the embellishments goddesses wore. “You haven’t been keeping contact,” she chided disappointedly, fingerless-gloved hand on cocked hips.

 _Who are you,_ Ichigo thought.

Kisuke’s eyes darted dragonfly-quick across the three new guests. “I’ve troubled you enough,” he said weakly.

The answer came to him in a split second.

By then, Kisuke’s fan was dangling loosely from his fingers, bucket hat put away as he was mercilessly _coddled_ by the shop’s newest guests one casual touch after another.

**4.**

There was a fresh plate of dango on the table Ichigo couldn’t recall requesting (again). The Uchiha had his own too, and he appeared to be the fondest of the dessert, devouring three sticks like it was nothing while maintaining an impossible grace.

It only solidified Ichigo’s belief that Tessai had more layers than an onion. Kisuke had nothing on the man: his mentor was the least prepared for the mysterious trio’s visit than everyone else in the room. Even Ichigo, because for all the building panic, the strangers were exactly that – _strangers,_ and Ichigo wasn’t exactly known for his social anxiety or stranger danger regard.

Kisuke’s metaphorical stumbling and flailing had no right to be as pitiful as it was, though. The guy had put Ichigo through a lot of shit, for one, so Ichigo should be finding the current situation hilarious. He should _not_ be experiencing the kind of sympathy reserved for the plus souls who weren’t yet aware of their deaths, how their spirits were invisible to their grieving loved ones.

While Kisuke sat in dogeza, a helpless expression on his face, Uzumaki “Call me Naruto!” was currently slurping on a bowl of ramen delivered the same time Ichigo realised there was a new plate of dango – which meant, he hadn’t, not until the food was being consumed very enthusiastically. Haruno seemed content with just drinking in comparison, but Ichigo’s Hollow-enhanced senses picked up more than just the scent of caffeine in her coffee.

There may or may not be alcohol of some sort mixed in there too.

The combination was… questionable.

“Kurosaki Ichigo, we’ve heard great things about you,” Haruno had smiled after the initial greeting to Kisuke: in which she’d cupped the back of his neck after Naruto saw fit to release him, squeezed it once, and then took him by the back collar and effortlessly lifted Kisuke like he was an errant pup that weighed absolutely nothing at all. She shifted him up bit until her arms were wound around his middle; Kisuke was hugged close like a teddy bear despite being taller than everyone else in the room.

“We’d like to thank you for looking after our little kit,” she drawled teasingly, and Uchiha hummed an agreeing “Hn,” while Naruto laughed heartily.

Ichigo distracted himself from the pleasant heat rippling up his skin by choosing to play detective to the magical appearance of the ramen, dango, and alcohol infused coffee.

It took Kisuke approximately half a minute to compose himself after short-circuiting from the casual manhandling. Funnier still was how he’d actually curled up during, honestly resembling the kit(?) Haruno had compared him to. Ichigo wasn’t a hundred percent sure what animal young kits belonged to, but he was willing to bet it was something cunning related.

Kisuke was no fish or bird – that was for sure.

Taking in the ease the trio made themselves at home in the shop, Ichigo circled his fingers around Kisuke’s wrist and dragged him to his feet towards the other room. They were in good need of some talking.

“Do I need to ask?” Ichigo whispered, equal parts confused, inappropriately aroused (he blamed his teenage hormones) and intimidated. 

“What makes you think _I_ know why they’re here?” Kisuke coughed, and Ichigo was two hundred percent done with Kisuke’s bullshit since last month. He stepped closer to the man, so close that their noses touched. “You’re not as great as an actor you think you are. Not to me,” he grunted, and was inwardly pleased to see how their heights almost matched. “You don’t know the full reason either.”

Ichigo got a sigh in return. Kisuke’s slumped shoulders that curled with resigned reluctance was nothing if not a confession.

“That’s not a bad thing,” Ichigo punctuated carefully, “We’ll know later on whether we like it or not. But who _are_ they, though? Don’t look at me like that! I’m curious! They’re all so… touchy. You hate when people touch you.”

“They took me in from the Rukongai,” Kisuke admitted while looking at Ichigo a little strangely. “You can say they’re like my…”

“Like your parents.”

“My benefactors,” Kisuke corrected mildly.

Ichigo stepped away, chest rising, because _holy shit._ The idea of Hat-and-clogs having parents was mind blowing. He couldn’t imagine it. He’d kind of thought the guy popped out from the womb like this, too knowing and too smart for anyone’s good, a mastermind equipped with masks he changed like underwear. It was like finding out in elementary school his teachers had lives outside of school.

Absolutely horrifying. Completely fascinating.

**5.**

A Zanpakuto rebellion wasn’t anywhere near the top of Ichigo’s list of what could go wrong in the afterlife, but it would be a lie to say he was surprised because Ichigo really wasn’t.

Thinking about it, a Zanpakuto rebellion actually does seem like the kind of shit that the Gotei would find themselves in. What with wishing cubes gone wrong and a thwarted dictator who’d played an excruciatingly long game to satisfy his god-complex only to bind himself to a fate worse than death. Afterwards, a shady den of questionable folk led by a substitute Shinigami hell-bent on revenge for understandable reasons.

In summary, the Gotei sucked majorly.

They were hands-down, no questions asked, assholes of unprecedented degrees. Even the friends he had there couldn’t discount the fact. Ichigo had decided ages ago on that once he died, he’d rather much attempt to apply for a position under Kisuke – an asshole he was at least familiar with. One he knew was decent at heart. The karma alone circulating in the Soul Society was insane.

Twenty minutes ago, Ichigo and Kisuke’s privacy was interrupted by Naruto who slid the paper door open and popped his head inside. “Kisuke-chan, Kisuke-chan,” he pouted exaggeratedly, “aren’t you going to introduce us to your kid? What’s up with you two being all secretive in here? Sakura-chan and the teme are _dying_ to know.”

But before Kisuke could respond, he was already asking Ichigo, “Hey, is your hair natural?”

Ichigo blinked. “Yeah.”

“That’s a _wesome,_ dattebayo _._ I’d dye my hair orange too if the teme wouldn’t throw the world’s largest hissy fit _ever._ ”

Naruto’s emotions were contagious, somewhere between giddy and delighted and amused. While Ichigo tried to not share the same senselessly, the corners of Kisuke’s mouth curled upwards ironically, “Of course.”

Once everyone was seated around the table, “Glad to know the couch won’t be lonely for the week,” Uchiha remarked sardonically – probably in response to the words Naruto put in his mouth and the reveal of his distaste for bright orange hair and _oh,_ Ichigo’s mouth parted slightly. They were _like_ that?

His cheeks burned for some reason. Reasons Ichigo wasn’t willing to admit to yet. He glanced at Kisuke, memorising the pinched expression on his face, the curve of his lips that persuaded Ichigo into trouble every other month, the ever-present darkness in and under his eyes. He momentarily imagined what it’d be like to… _to –_

Sakura elbowed Uchiha in the rib but she was clearly stifling a laugh, causing the man to wince before shielding the spot protectively. “Let him have his fun, Sasuke-kun,” she said, eyes alight with charming mischief.

“He can save it. We’re running out of time,” snapped Uchiha impatiently, and Sakura’s playfulness melted faster than ice cream in a heated frying pan. Even Naruto appeared to understand; his expression schooled into something serious, a complete one-eighty from earlier on.

Like a knee-jerk reaction, Sakura immediately referred to Naruto in body language, but her attentions were turned towards Kisuke and Ichigo once Naruto nodded tersely. It was as if she’d needed his permission for her to speak, and Ichigo shifted uncomfortably as he drummed his fingers on his knees.

Her tone was level and collected. Kind, if Ichigo had to point out what stood out the most. He felt like a patient on bedrest in a hospital. “I’m sure there’ll be time for us to know each other on the way, but I think it’s more important we discuss why we’re really here on such short notice, Kisuke. Kurosaki-kun.”

She described a rebellion by the Shinigami’s Zanpakuto. How chaos and strife was running rampant in the afterlife. Masters betrayed and bonds broken. The culprit was a Zanpakuto himself named Muramasa and this wasn’t his first rodeo in being a major pain in the ass. Only, his master – a Kuchiki – had wielded Muramasa the last time this happened. 

Uchiha actually snorted at that, aptly called Kuchiki Koga a clown, and resumed his fourth plate of dango.

The 7th Division Captain was currently compromised in an at-the-ER kind of way, and so was the 1st Division Lieutenant. Hell, Byakuya’s name had popped up somewhere along the line and fun fact: Senbonzakura was as much of a dangerous hardass as their master.

“Yamamoto-taicho’s blood pressure isn’t what it used to be,” she even added wistfully. “We managed to barricade him while Sasuke-kun fended off Muramasa. He was the one to inform us on the situation when we came back from our business in the West Branch.”

Ichigo had regularly checked in with Kisuke’s reactions out of habit. He watched the man throw increasingly weary glances at Naruto who made the occasional noise, arms crossed against his chest. By the end of the report, Sakura bumped shoulders with Naruto and “Naruto,” she said, saccharine sweet, “don’t you need to tell them something?”

**6.**

Naruto’s puzzled expression was comical; he looked like a lost puppy.

Ichigo shook his head in an attempt to chase away the thought, but Naruto was pointing at himself and solidifying the impression by cocking his head to the side. “I do? But you’ve told them everything, Sakura-chan! We need all the manpower available and yada yada.”

“She means a heads up, usuratonkachi,” Uchiha interjected, pointedly looking down at the space of Naruto’s hip for a few seconds before meeting his blond companion’s eyes again. Crossing his arms as well, Uchiha clicked his tongue and breathed out an irritated huff.

Kisuke froze. The hand he had on the edge of the table was white knuckled and the wood creaked in stress. “No,” he said. “You didn’t.”

“He did,” Sakura’s mouth was pressed into a thin line. She smacked Naruto’s blond head from the upside.

Ichigo read the exchange between the four. It wasn’t difficult to put a conclusion together. “What, your Zanpakuto got brainwashed too?”

“It’s nothing,” Naruto assured with a sheepish grin. Rubbing the back of his neck, his other hand played with Uchiha’s large happi sleeve in which a little red and white fan was stitched discreetly at the corners. “Kurama’s technically immune to brainwashing, dattebayo. He just hasn’t had the time to get out and stretch his paws and y’know, fell for the scam for a bit. No biggie! I can handle him. You just focus on helping the others.”

“That’s beside the point,” Kisuke grounded out. He sounded genuinely worried underneath the frustration. “Ichigo cannot afford to encounter your Zanpakuto without preparation.”

Ichigo’s pride took a small hit. “Oi, I defeated Aizen.”

“Don’t be stupid. Unless you can picture yourself doing the same in half the time and dialogue and ego, then you’d best remember at what cost you defeated Aizen. Kurama could care less about playing with his prey.” Kisuke spread his fan open again. “Tou-san, I believe it’ll be ideal if we wait a few days to prepare Ichigo.”

“Are we going to talk about – wait, did you just call him –”

Kisuke ignored him; a move that would’ve stung if his ears weren’t also positively scarlet.

“I understand, but the teme is right. We’re short on time as it is. Ichigo will be fine,” Naruto stated with a comforting hand on Kisuke’s shoulder. He was awfully relaxed for someone whose soul, whose main form of defence was essentially swayed against him. “The teme and I will be with Ichigo so don’t worry so much. Sakura-chan’ll be at the Fourth helping out for the moment. Uchi Naru Sakura’s gone rogue too unfortunately.”

(“She said she was leaving because I haven’t been taking care of my eye bags enough. The _audacity,_ ” Sakura muttered darkly. “You hole yourself up researching medicine for two weeks for the _good of humanity_ and this is what you get.”)

**7.**

Before entering the opened Senkaimon, Kisuke told Ichigo three things.

 _One,_ Kurama was _not_ the Zanpakuto’s true name. It was what he’d chosen to call himself so that he didn’t level an entire district each time Naruto felt the need to call him. Notably, Ichigo had not known that was a thing.

 _Two,_ Uchi Naru Sakura was in fact Sakura’s Zanpakuto, and he could recognise her easily because Uchi Naru Sakura was not in fact a sword, but a pair of knuckle gloves.

 _Three,_ if Ichigo ever encountered either, he would under no circumstance attempt to fight the manifestations one on one, much less together. Especially considering his understanding of his powers were tacky at best while Kurama and Uchi Naru Sakura were nearly as old as the Head Captain, just – if not more – powerful, and they disliked monologuing just as much as Yoruichi was ashamed of her nudity.

They were ‘attack first, ask questions later’ kind of spirits, Kisuke said. This did not work in favour of Ichigo who needed a while to enter his inner-world should he find himself losing and then convince Shiro to help him, but only _after_ decking it out with the asshole. They were not like Kenpachi who waited because he wanted a drawn out battle purely for his enjoyment

Uchiha’s smug smirk was particularly prominent even after they stepped through the glaring white light, appearing somewhere near the Seireitei. Despite his initial stoic appearance, the impression was quickly broken with the way he kept making short jabs at Naruto’s and Sakura’s expense.

The dark-eyed man had apparently not known Sakura’s Zanpakuto’s threw hands with her over trivial reasons such as skin care. And, as it was later revealed after Sakura’s innocent admittance, he was also not aware that Kurama had left because Naruto wasn’t paying his Zanpakuto spirit enough attention in their inner-world while the trio was on their business trip.

Kurama had gotten bored and was by nature a spiteful, petty creature – Uchiha found this hilarious.

“Chichiue,” Kisuke scolded, almost helplessly. “Hn,” was the half-hearted concession he got in reply. Waiting in line, Ichigo tripped over nothing when he heard the address. “ _Chi–?!_ ” He imagined young Kisuke, height at his hip, and realised his imagination could extend no further. He tried to suppress a shudder but by the sharp glint in Kisuke’s silver eyes, Ichigo reckoned he was probably unsuccessful. 

**8.**

Ichigo was well-aware of the dangers of growing arrogant; he was also aware he was powerful. He was only seventeen, but his achievements have surpassed those who’d lived over ten times his age. Anyone ought to take _some_ sort of pride in that. It was unrealistic to earn his share of near-death experiences without giving in to any form of positive associations he could get so as to not repel himself completely from matters of the dead.

So although Ichigo was appropriately cautious of Kurama if only because _Kisuke_ was, he’d thought he maybe had a chance to exchange several blows should the need arise. Ichigo was unlucky that way. He was to his dismay a charged magnet for trouble, a Pokemon game avatar in wild grass. Just walking attracted trouble to him and not the other way around.

Essentially, Ichigo became strong because circumstances thus far forced him to be. It was that simple, and at some point, he was bound to run into everything Kisuke would rather he didn’t.

The omnipotent, omniscient, and invisible forces of the world loved fucking with him and Ichigo had thought he was as prepared as can be. Or at least prepared enough to not die on the spot and a whispering part of him said: fate loves fucking with you, but it won’t let you die. You’ll make it through yet another arc in the life of Kurosaki Ichigo with all limbs intact, albeit bandaged to the nines.

The soft confidence nestled preciously in his heart, the grounding clench of earthed roots that kept him moving forward besides his dedication to his namesake and too giving nature, immediately shrivelled up and died a horrible death the moment he actually saw Kurama in the flesh from a distance, who couldn’t be less than 800 feet tall. The air was practically flooding with sludge-thick Reiatsu that bled hatred and malice and death – practically promised it.

Even a dead man could _feel_ how Kurama was wearing said Reiatsu like a thick coat. There was no space to misunderstand just whose Reiatsu was sending flurries of Shinigami off on stretchers, bodies and face leaking puss and blood on inflamed skin because of the severe burns they were sporting. 

Naruto whistled, insultingly carefree while Ichigo swore the corrosive Reiatsu textured and coloured like magma was eating through his own protective layering of Reiatsu. In contrast, Sakura wasted no time approaching a woman with a number 4 on her armband. “Haruno-taicho!” she exclaimed exuberantly despite the exhaustion clinging to her petite frame.

“Thank the Soul King you’re here.” Relief brought some colour to her pale parlour. “We’re in dire need of your assistance. Byakuya-taicho may have gone rogue!”

_Bullshit. Byakuya wouldn’t – wait, Haruno- **taicho?**_

Fondness in his bright blue eyes, Naruto looked upon the silhouette of destruction incarnate attached to a set of furry, almost bat-like ears and said, “Man, this brings back memories. Hey Kisuke-chan, do you remember how I used to let you ride on Kurama’s back? You were so small back then. So cute. Even cuter than Sasuke when he had that duck butt haircut.”

“Stop saying that! It was _nothing_ like a duck’s butt.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I let him ride on Susanoo’s shoulder,” Uchiha tacked on quickly, like it was an important thing to know and the key to winning this conversation. “He _was_ very small,” he added while nodding pensively, suddenly lost in thought. He finally ended his part by murmuring, “… Hn. Cute.”

“Yeah _sure,_ but Kurama’s way cooler, teme. And he’s much more comfortable too! Sitting on Susanoo’s like sitting on a brick on fire!”

“Susanoo’s not _actually_ on fire, usuratonkachi. You would shut up right now if you bothered remembering your brain when you talk for once,” Uchiha scoffed and rolled his eyes.

Naruto shoved at him and Uchiha gave as good as he got by pushing back harder. Their squabbling evolved into playground tumbling between one heated glare and the next. Eventually, Sakura had them both by the back collars each, shaking them like they stole her lunch money. Ichigo watched with a kind of morbid fascination as two men as ancient as… Japan, probably, were treated like glorified puppies.

“Enough,” Sakura said with the air of someone accustomed to their childish antics. “I can feel Uchi Naru Sakura somewhere close, so I’m going to let both of you go now and find her, but you will behave like someone of your standing, assist the boys, and snap the fox out of his rampage. Am I clear?”

Naruto dropped his head sadly as Uchiha clicked his tongue grouchily.

“Great! I’m so proud of you. Both of you.” Then she – to Ichigo’s absolute shock and admiration – fucking threw them a hundred metres across like they were bloody tennis balls. The spot where they landed plumed up with sand-coloured dust clouds.

“Ow! How could you, Sakura-chan!”

A grunt. A husky and put out, “Hn.”

“Yes, yes, Sasuke-kun. And I’ll pretend you didn’t just buy _another_ fan when you promised you’d sort through the five thousand and thirty others we already have at home.” Sakura pressed a quick kiss to Kisuke’s cheek, doing the same to her companions. “Love you! Don’t miss me too much!”

“It’s not fair Naruto gets ramen ten times a week,” Uchiha complained quietly.

**9.**

In the east where Sakura had headed to retrieve her wayward Zanpakuto, the rumbling elevation of an entire street could be heard.

It had been a while since she’d made first release, Sakura thought. The elation of battle that pulsed in her blood was all fire. Why had she chosen to indulge in research again? Take the route down in diplomatic relations with her two boys? When there was honestly no place like the second home she found in the front lines.

Sakura’s name may be well renowned as the direct apprentice and successor of Senju Tsunade, the founding mother of the Fourth Division, but it wasn’t an accident Sakura was first adopted into the Eleventh Division, making it to vice-captain before her beautiful drunkard of a master seduced her away.

Standing by her side, Uchi Naru Sakura’s tattooed face bore an incandescent and joyous expression. Sakura lacked the common callouses on the palm because it was her knuckles that scarred.

“Fucking finally. SHANNARO, _Uchi Naru Sakura!_ ”

-

“Did something happen to Unohana?” Ichigo asked Kisuke quietly as they made their way towards the heart of trouble. Naruto and Uchiha were ahead of them and bickering light-heartedly about having ramen or soba for dinner.

As far as Ichigo bothered to listen, Uchiha was winning and Naruto knew it. The interesting thing was that he didn’t really seem to mind.

Kisuke gave Ichigo a questioning look, pushing him to explain. “Saw someone call Haruno-san Captain. She seemed to know a lot about healing, so I thought something might’ve happened to Unohana that you weren’t telling me about.”

“And if that were true, what makes you think I’d tell you now?”

“Because I’m openly asking you, Getaboshi. Your problem is omitting shit. No answers to questions I don’t ask, so I’m asking you right now aren’t I?”

Kisuke’s following chuckle was warm. “I suppose. But I’ve said so earlier, Ichigo, they’re retired. They did use to be captains of different divisions though.”

“Which ones?” Ichigo prompted, because he needed something to distract him from the smell of burning flesh prominent around them, the wails of anguish by Zanpakuto spirits that had killed their masters only to find themselves empty of their other half. Guilt and regret transformed them into mindless beasts. It would be impossible to decide which was worse honestly.

The betrayed and terrified cries of the Shinigami themselves were the easiest to tune out – it sounded similar as during the Aizen debacle. Just, hearing the utterly raw and animalistic cries of the Zanpakuto, Ichigo felt it like a brand fresh from the smith.

He couldn’t understand how Naruto and Uchiha could be so blasé about the shit going on around them. He wondered if this is what quasi-immortality did to you. If it took away one’s humanity and compassion for those that aren’t directly connected to one’s relationship circle.

“We separate here,” Kisuke said suddenly, snapping Ichigo out of his head and into the present. Up close, Kurama appeared damningly more humongous and frightening as its Reiatsu felt decidedly more potent. It towered the Gillians Ichigo once troubled over. A single strand of fur on the fox may as well be as tall as him.

Sweat was beading down his temple, clinging on his pale eyelashes. “Leave it to my fathers,” Kisuke continued to say, but his urgent tone was simply a muted thing compared to the booming bark that had Ichigo’s brain registering a sharp ringing.

He was gaping, but it was for good reason because bark aside, Kurama’s growl alone shook the air, and a casual sway of its nine ginormous tails delivered shockwaves that cracked bark and bent trees until they were mere 45 degrees from touching the ground.

Ichigo liked to think Naruto was a good person. And okay, he had barely known the guy for more than two hours, but Naruto’s warm voice, the shallow laughing lines around his eyes, and the way he said Kisuke’s name did it for Ichigo – trusting his gut, he believed Naruto was the kind of guy that loved strongly if nothing else.

So it made no sense for his soul to reflect so much hatred and so much… negativity.

This was neither an Inner-Hollow nor companionable Ossan. _You live with this?_ Ichigo wanted to say. He was stopped when Uchiha jostled him with a warm hand on his shoulder. “Hurry. Go with Kisuke,” the dark-haired man said sternly. “Naruto and I will handle this.”

 _How?_ Ichigo thought. Anxious concern was a vice grip on his lungs as he took a measured breath in, unconsciously leaning into Uchiha. Even Shiro was at least his size, powerful but manageable and reasonable. Not to assume Kurama was an unintelligent Hollow incapable of reasoning, but the brainwashing’s influence must have compromised something in his furry head.

Naruto and Uchiha were going to need all the help they could get. Hell, Ichigo needed to help. The urge inside him was a wild and thrashing bird trapped in a cage too small for its wide-spanned wings. “Let me help,” he rasped, but Uchiha was shaking his head and gently pushing Ichigo back with his arm.

“This isn’t your fight.”

“I’ve fought for less thanks to your son.”

Uchiha sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “His adoption process wasn’t the smoothest,” he said blandly. It explained absolutely nothing. “Uzumaki-san can’t call his Zanpakuto right now,” Ichigo pressed, “I can at least act as a distraction in case anything goes wrong.”

No one less than the Soul King could persuade Ichigo to leave. Uchiha’s glare was weirdly reassuring. The man pushed a stray hair from his eyes and grunted exasperatedly. “Naruto!” he barked, and finally noticing the prolonged silence from someone who couldn’t keep quiet to save his life, Ichigo and Uchiha broke off from their staring contest to find signs of Naruto.

Kisuke was already gone, likely having predicted Ichigo better than Ichigo could ever predict himself. Abandonment was the last thing on Ichigo’s mind. In fact, he thought Kisuke’s decision to leave certainly saved them time from humouring Ichigo’s martyr complex in favour of someone who did need help.

Yellow and orange were a striking combination, and they found Naruto soon enough. Not far away, Naruto was staring contemplatively at his Zanpakuto’s towering figure, eyes focused like he was trying to figure something difficult out.

“Oi, Usuratonkachi.”

“… huh?” Naruto jerked back a bit before turning in their direction, “What is it, teme?”

“Kid wants to help,” he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. Ichigo pursed his lips feeling the same. “It’s _your_ Zanpakuto, so you’re planning for this disaster.”

“Yeah. _Yeah,_ okay, I think I know what we can do. Just leave it to me, dattebayo.”

**10.**

The plan was to talk Kurama out of his violent haze.

Fucking _talk._

Ichigo hated Naruto’s plan. It was ridiculous and suicidal and that was saying something considering Ichigo’s go-to problem solving method was charging into the scene head first and beating up those that got in his way.

“What? No! That’s the worst plan I’ve ever heard.”

“You should be grateful you haven’t met the usuratonkachi when he was your age then.” Uchiha had the gall to look bored as though his life wasn’t on the line too.

“We don’t talk about that, teme.”

“You wouldn’t _know_ what plans meant if it punched you in the gut,” Uchiha revealed gleefully. Which was quite the achievement to convey as not so much as a face muscle even twitched when he spoke.

“I so did!”

“Kakashi wouldn’t agree.”

Naruto folded himself in half and groaned, but shot up soon enough. “We don’t have time for this! You have to take my word on this, Ichigo. Kurama’s still grumpy old Kurama and some shitty brainwashing won’t change who he is. He’s my partner, my friend. I _know_ him.” Naruto ducked his head and rounded an arm around Ichigo’s shoulders; the man was a freaking furnace. “Trust me.”

Against better judgement, Ichigo ended up nodding tentatively like the pushover he was. His brain refused to even feel bad about it. Naruto beamed, “Awesome! I'll definitely treat you to some ramen afterwards.”

Inwardly, Ichigo hoped the dango he had earlier today wouldn’t be his last meal in existence. “Alright,” he huffed. “What do you need me to do?”

Ichigo regretted saying that.

He regretted it the moment Uchiha announced the nearing arrival of fucking vice-captain level Zanpakuto spirits who smelled battle from miles away like a shark did for a drop of blood in the sea. “Their kind are attracted to Naruto like flies to rot,” Uchiha said sharply. “It’s likely Muramasa’s doing. Distract them for us.”

Ichigo hadn’t even noticed the group’s hounding arrival.

“What’re you going to be doing?” he asked.

“Isolating the area,” Uchiha said, and drew his sword from its sheath and the air hummed with energy. Every hair on Ichigo’s body stood on end and his heart pounded away at an unhealthy speed. The air shook, practically vibrated.

Kurama’s attention was drawn to them. He looked down and was met with Naruto’s determined grin that was all teeth and cunning. Kurama returned it.

The surface of Uchiha’s blade danced with violet flame. Ichigo resisted taking a step backwards. Unlike the corrosive nature of Kurama’s Reiatsu, Uchiha’s was refined. Yet there was something almost hungry about it, like it wanted to consume everything in existence: insatiable and begging to eat and eat and _burn –_

Uchiha’s eyes seemed to glow in ringed purple. “Avenge, _Yūbu no Aragami.”_

-

At some point in the future, Ichigo would eventually be informed that talking his way out of things was actually an effective method of conflict resolution as far as Naruto was concerned. The teenager would then balk, expression disbelieving, and Kisuke would shake his head empathetically like he understood Ichigo’s weird mesh of emotions.

At the present, by the twentieth Zanpakuto spirit Ichigo had felled while defending the circle of twisting flame behind him, blood was coursing in his ears and he could hardly hear himself think from the creeping fatigue.

Kurama’s cursed Reiatsu wasn’t helping at all, honestly. It was dead weight for someone unaccustomed to it despite Ichigo’s more than adequate Reiatsu that prevented him from getting burned outright. It was like the stench of a garbage truck, nauseating no matter how many times it crossed his home.

“Has he talked the fox to death yet?” Ichigo yelled over the thick glowing line, sounding perhaps sharper and more sarcastic than he initially intended. Uchiha responded with an unreadable “Hn,” and in his anxious anger, Ichigo physically felt his blood pressure rise. “Fuck!”

“Hm,” Uchiha hummed flatly, mockingly unimpressed.

Ichigo directed a Getsuga Tensho at the bastard just because he could. It predictably missed, but a small part of Ichigo had still hoped it’d pull through.

It earned him an infuriating smirk from the man instead, so Ichigo may have decimated a strip of forestry while protecting himself from some Zanpakuto spirit that swiped at him with unnaturally long nails.

“You’re him,” an unfamiliar voice suddenly entered in the clearing. “Kurosaki Ichigo.” He had light eyes and marks around them that resembled a mask torn right out of Batman. A small frown tugged his lips downwards, brown hair not quite wild, but it reminded Ichigo of the grooming of a feral cat. The fur scarf wrapped around his neck and on his shoulders simply enforced the image.

Uchiha was landing beside Ichigo in a blink, silent as an owl. “Muramasa,” Uchiha’s soft baritone was filled with disdain. “You were better off targeting Ryujin Jakka. Kurama’s displeasure isn’t something someone of your calibre can withstand.”

“And yet,” Muramasa chuckled darkly, “here we are.” He gestured towards the fox who was frozen still, not that Muramasa noticed. The tired-eyed spirit looked notably disgruntled and distracted and desperate. “The strongest Zanpakuto under my influence, powerful enough to destroy Seireitei if I so asked. It is you Shinigami who are undeserving of such power.”

Right as he said so, Naruto was filling in the unoccupied space on Ichigo’s other side. His head whipped to the left. On his right, he sensed Uchiha do the same in his peripheral vision, though his reaction to the presence of Naruto was admittedly done in attractive composure.

“Kurama says you’re wrong,” he announced proudly. “He’d rather behold a massacre on his own terms, thanks.”

Naruto thumbed his sword free from its sheath with a slow ominous slide. The scars on his face thickened, pupils going slit and canine elongating. Muramasa snarled like a cornered animal.

In Ichigo’s head, Shiro was cackling.

“If our enemies rip our arms off, we’ll kick them to death. If they rip our legs off, we’ll bite them to death. If they rip our heads off, we’ll stare them to death. And if they gouge out our eyes, we’ll curse them beyond the grave, _Kyūbi no Yōko!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Been a while since I made a completed crack fic. Hope you enjoyed it. Uhh leave a Kudos and comment for an epilogue.
> 
> (Just kidding - I make no promises.)
> 
> Other stuff I wanted to explore but could not find the energy to. I wrote this just because I wanted to read a Zanpakuto!Kurama ngl.
> 
> \- As mentioned, Team 7 used to be Division Captains. Naruto was in the 2nd Division whose insignia signified [Seek nothing], Sasuke from the 6th Division [Noble reason], and Sakura from the 4th Division [Those who grieve are loved].
> 
> \- Naruto actually wanted 2nd Division because it was orange he loves orange. Unfortunately, the folks there are all assassins and subtlety is the last thing Naruto is. 
> 
> \- Kakashi is also retired. He was in the 2nd Division before transferring the the 11th and then settling for the 1st where he was Vice-Captain. He acted as Head Captain once because Yamamoto thought it'd be funny and Kakashi hated it.


End file.
